


Kigo

by extremiss



Category: Kuroko no Basuke | Kuroko's Basketball
Genre: M/M, Pining, Seasons
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-12
Updated: 2014-11-12
Packaged: 2018-02-25 03:03:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,574
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2606135
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/extremiss/pseuds/extremiss
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>How is it possible to fall in love more than once? Ask Kise Ryouta. By now, he should've become an expert.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Kigo

**Author's Note:**

> in case anyone is wondering: kigo is a seasonal word or phrase that's always used in writing haiku/poetry. yay enjoy
> 
> (x-posted on tumblr: http://kahrasuno.tumblr.com/post/102440217556/ )

i. spring

Kise's fatal flaw was that he was too cheery, too friendly. He'd been named a sun child when he was young—an apt nickname, for he smiled too much, laughed too often.

Something that should make him garner people's bias for him only made people suspicious of him. It made him harder to trust. The rationale was that he had the power to pick you apart piece by piece from under your skin. The only bonds he'd be able to forge would be built on sand, and they always fall right through his fingers.  
  
He was well-liked, but never loved. People claimed there was a glint in his otherwise charming eyes; a catch to his sincerity. He wouldn't completely disagree. It may as well have been true. Unlike what people may think, Kise was as unsure about himself as everyone else was.  
  
The very first person who meets him and regards him normally—free of prejudice and assumptions—is found in a small, pale, blue-haired phantom.  
  
It's Kise who misjudges him in the beginning. He had underestimated him and inwardly berated him for his lack of presence. He wonders how someone like Aomine would truly respect this weak person.  
  
He's a ghost, Kise believes at first. He appears out of nowhere, almost as if he'd been invisible to begin with, and his voice never fluctuates with any sliver of emotion. Although Kise would be lying if he said he wasn't intrigued by the short boy, he still fails to see what's so great about him.  
  
 _Thankfully, the cherry blossoms bloomed early that year._  
  
They win another game on the first Tuesday of spring. Two lanes of cherry blossoms dance in the breeze, and Teiko stride onward between them with pride. Their unhurried footsteps brush past petals that pepper the cement and the grass. Although by this time, the wins don't come as surprises anymore and Kise has himself stuck to Kuroko's side like glue.  
  
People notice it. Midorima, primarily. He notices how somehow Kise's personality had taken a one-hundred-eighty degree turn. He sees the fondness in his eyes and the excitement in his voice every time he crowds Kuroko. Where other people would get annoyed, Kuroko doesn't particularly mind.  
  
While Kise chatters and Kuroko flits between listening and reading his novel, a pink petal flutters down and makes its home on Kuroko's feathery blue hair. Kise pauses. In turn, Kuroko stops in his tracks as well, lowering his book and giving the blonde a questioning glance. "Kise-kun?"  
  
Kise doesn't know what force of man makes him do it, but he extends his arm, letting his hand hover over the side of Kuroko's face— all the things he meant to say and his meaningless ramblings are stuck in his throat. "Kurokocchi, you have a..." he trails off quietly, his fingers extricating the petal from Kuroko's hair. The soft barely-there brush of his finger on Kuroko's face makes Kuroko blink involuntarily.   
  
Kise's heartbeats are loud enough to deafen.  
  
"Thank you." Kuroko says, ever the polite one. His tone is delicate, and there's what Kise thinks is a smile on his face; but it comes to sight in the briefest of moments that Kise barely catches it.  
  
"Y-Yeah, you're welcome." Kise stammers. It was uncharacteristic of him. His face feels unexpectedly hot, and the silence as they continue to walk unnerves him to wit's end; it leaves him to the sound of his own thoughts, which is _bad_.  
  
Kise knows what this feeling is.  
  
It's not that he'd experienced it before. He's heard about it so often, and it's the type of thing you only know for sure when it occurs to you.  
  
He watches Kuroko's retreating figure, and he wants to kick himself.  
  
 _Ah, so this is what love feels like._

 

 

* * *

 

 

  
  
ii. summer

Days become longer, and nights become shorter.  
  
The team books a camp overlooking the mountains and the beach, but they're not making this visit to appreciate the view. The wooden walls of the cabin aren't enough to block the sound of waves crashing against stone and wind whisking past trees, just like how the roof isn't doing a sound job of shielding them from glaring beats of the sun.  
  
No one had enough will to keep their shirt on. They lay carelessly on the floorboards in different positions that represent absolute tiredness perfectly, pulled down by gravity, by the heat and by exhaustion. The aura in the room remains idle. Pretty peaceful, too, if not for the occasional drawls of complaint here and there. The sweat collects atop Kise's nose and on his deep philtrum. His blonde locks also stick to his forehead, and he's forced to use his discarded shirt to wipe his wet face.  
  
All the while, Kuroko lazily sits by Aomine's sleeping body, looking out the window in silence. He's still wearing a loose, thin jacket over his sweat-slicked form, and Kise finds it ineffably hard to believe that the boy could still manage the brightness of the sun.  
  
Kise wants to admire him. He wants to admire how Kuroko's blue hair looks white like snow in the sunlight, and how his pale cheeks have reddened adorably due to the warmth. His jacket grants Kise the sight of the nape of his white neck (which he also wants to admire). He wants to continue to suffocate in this unexplainable affection like he suffocates in heavy, humid summer atmosphere. But he can't. 

He can't because Kuroko is mindlessly playing with Aomine's dark blue hair, all gentle fingers and warm looks in his eyes. The latter stirs shallowly in his slumber to lift his head onto Kuroko's lap, a gesture Kuroko welcomes entirely. In the heat, Kise feels a pang in his chest and an out-of-place coldness that spreads to the ends of his limbs. It's hot, burning jealousy; Kise knows this feeling very well.  
  
The usual object of Kise's envy always happens to be Aomine. The dark-skinned boy seemed to effortlessly best him at everything. Basketball, to name one. Kise refuses to believe he's lost Kuroko to him, too.  
  
But in what position is he to impose what Aomine could and couldn't have?  
  
He falls back to his original spot on the floor with a loud, drawn-out sigh. He's an idiot. How couldn't have he noticed sooner that Kuroko's eyes always followed Aomine's path and not his? Or has he just purposefully turned a blind eye to this? He turns to his side miserably, eyes slipping closed in an effort to tune out the scalding, sticky warmth and the disgusting feeling that threatens to loom over him again.  
  
There's a piece of cloth being thrown to his face short moments later. Kise grabs it from his eyes and inspects it, confused. It's a towel.   
  
"Thanks, Akashicchi—" he sighs more than says, sitting up to meet the gaze of—not red eyes—but powder blue. "Kurokocchi?" He asks, honestly surprised.  
  
It really was Kuroko. No one had a knack for appearing and disappearing out of nowhere like Kuroko did. He's bending over so that he's face to face with Kise, having left behind his comfortable spot next to Aomine. "Kise-kun, are you okay?"  
  
"Why wouldn't I be?" Kise laughs breathily. His ears are turning red, but certainly not from the temperature.  
  
"You're really red, and you were frowning. It must have been hot." Kuroko explains simply. There's a smile that's too small to be observed on his gentle face, but Kise sees it. He sees how his eyes subtly crinkle and how his lips turn ever-so-slightly upward.  
  
Kise continues to laugh awkwardly more then, reassuring Kuroko that really, he's fine, he's good. When Kuroko's unnoticeable smile refuses to be wiped off of his face, Kise realizes that he's falling in love a second time.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

  
iii. fall

Kise doesn't like making girls cry. He doesn't mean that his words come out easily. His responses come clipped and sharp and hurting. The girls they're directed to never seem to grasp the concept of a break-up, although; they hang onto hopes that—in reality—are falling, like autumn leaves.  
  
He doesn't feel good about what he does. He feels terrible, if anything. In truth, he'd switched from girl to girl probably in order to take his mind off Kuroko. The thing is, it's an impossible task. The boy had already wormed his way into his heart, with no presented escape route.

It's always been a dangerous predicament— these feelings Kise has come to accept. But it's too late. Maybe his unserious relationships were a coping mechanism. Who knows?

Kise listlessly hears the girl's plea. Even when she cries, he's cold, unfeeling. He hardly even spares her a glance. Anyone who saw him would agree he didn't seem like Kise Ryouta at all. In the end, she relents. She sprints off, mascara running down her face like ink and her pink lipstick smudged.   
  
He eventually meets Kuroko (and supposedly Aomine, but he had bailed on them) by the convenience store, emotionally beaten. The store wasn't even a block away from where he was; it wasn't too long a travel.

The shorter one brandishes two popsicles from wherever upon coming face to face with Kise, and offers one to him. The blonde accepts it gratefully, instantly falling into step with him. They walk in the flurry of dying leaves, making their surroundings turn into a calming blur of yellow and brown.

They leave the sound of crunches in their wake, to fill the lack of conversation. Kise considers joking about sharing a popsicle instead, but he's sure that Kuroko, undeterred, would refuse him. His guts tell him that he shouldn't really be talking today.

"Weren't you too harsh?" Kuroko finally breaks the ice both figuratively and literally, as he takes a bite off of his cold sugary treat.  
  
"You heard?" Kise asks, eyes widening.  
  
"No." Kuroko purses his lips. "She ran by here." Kuroko had always been the observant empathetic one in the group— of course he'd get worried.  
  
Kise hums thoughtfully, though he doesn't give Kuroko a direct answer.  
  
Kuroko questions politely as to why Kise had gone out with her in the first place. It's odd that Kuroko decides now of all days to meddle with romantic affairs. He never was the type.   
  
Kise shrugs. "She asked."  
  
More silence.  
  
"Did Kise-kun tell her you liked her?"  
  
"I didn't, really. She might've thought so. I probably acted like I did. I don't really know." comes Kise's nonchalant answer.  
  
"Ah." Kuroko stops walking, and his heels might have made a scratching sound on the concrete.  
  
"Kurokocchi?" Kise comes to a halt in front of him when he detects a lag. They're situated in a plethora of city people where Kuroko stands unfazed, or just seemingly so. He looks up at Kise with such a serious expression that even Kise is rightfully taken aback; Kise has rarely been on the receiving end of such a look from him.   
  
 _"That's cruel, isn't it?"_  
  
Kise wishes Kuroko didn't smile again right then. It's not the smile Kise loves to see; it's somehow sad. It causes Kise's heart to clinch, his stomach to twist. He has no inherent idea as to why Kuroko has such an upsetting look in his eyes. _What's with that face, Kurokocchi?_  
  
It's gone quickly, like almost all the things Kuroko does, and Kise has trouble believing it was ever there— but the sight lingers. Despite the fact that the rest of their walk back progresses smoothly, Kise remains bothered by Kuroko's strange reaction.

When he closes his eyes, he sees the same smile behind his lids—the smile ridden with some feeling of disappointment, the smile that shouldn't even be considered a smile at all. What's more, he's the one who caused it. Nothing makes any bit of sense to him. Things seldom did in the life of Kise Ryouta.

Nevertheless, he's able to put it behind him for the time being—it's what he's good at. He even gets Kuroko to promise to call him later that day. Night comes and the autumn breeze endures, but Kuroko doesn't call. Kise waits. His heart doesn't change.  
  
It comes a bit of a shock when Akashi informs him Kuroko has quit the basketball club, and Kise's following days become less and less meaningful. His heart still doesn't change.

 

 

* * *

 

 

  
iv. winter 

Kise's shoes dig into snow in a very quick pace, white mist falling from his lips as he runs. The streets are decked out with blankets of ice resembling cotton, and people have taken to wearing several layers of clothing under their coats all while snow falls from the endless black-blue sky. These are all hindrances to him, however, as he overcompensates for his tardiness.  
  
"Kurokocchi!"   
  
Kuroko turns his head—though a difficult task in the biting coldness—upon the mention of a familiar nickname. He bows his head slightly to acknowledge the one who called out to him. From a distance, Kise could see that he's clasping his hands together tightly. His gloved palm meets his gloved palm, fingernails turning a gradient of blue under knitted fabric. He's also wearing a frumpy, oversized scarf around his neck, that will surely muffle his already-quiet speech.

In typical Kise fashion, he slings an arm over Kuroko's shoulders, apologizing profusely for being late. Although, all Kuroko tells him is that he shouldn't be running around so much.  
  
"Where's Kagamicchi?" asks Kise, dropping onto a nearby bench. Kuroko follows suit. Sure enough, the usual intense redhead presence wasn't around Kuroko.  
  
"He left a little while ago."  
  
The words sink in a beat too late for Kise. He looks—really intently _looks_ —at Kuroko; notes how the tip of his nose has turned red, how snowflakes have landed on his hair and short eyelashes, how his limbs tremble somewhat in the winter chill.

Kise feels a familiar spike in his chest—one he wasn't truly aware he still had. He hasn't experienced this in a long time, and he'd pushed the feeling to the deepest recesses of his mind, afraid of acting upon it. Now of all days, the feeling returns to him, settling in his stomach, and in the marrow of his bones.  
  
"You've been waiting long, haven't you." Kise says, softly. It's not a question, because Kise can tell.  
  
"Not that long." Kuroko assures him, despite his small shivers that Kise doesn't let go unnoticed. It only makes Kuroko come off petulant, as he furrows his eyebrows and turns away. Normally, Kise is the one who acts like a total child. People didn't know Kuroko tended to have a side to himself much like it.

At a time like this, it isn't hard to get an idea of how Kuroko feels and right now, Kuroko feels like all his joints have been iced in place.

He braces himself for some teasing. This is _exactly_ the type of thing Kise would tease him about. Yet, Kise finds that he wants to say something completely different. Something that's been buried deep inside him, made to age like fine wine. It's difficult to string words together, however, because the faintest shine in Kuroko's eyes are brighter than he recalled.  
  
He settles for, "It's really nice to see you again, Kurokocchi."  
  
Kuroko agrees quietly. The moment of distinct clarity Kise achieves is gone as fast as it appears.  
  
Engulfed in icy air that racks both their bodies almost mercilessly, they talk. Or Kise does, but Kuroko will sometimes pipe up about his Seirin team. Kise can't help but feel colder at this, because it's a reminder that he's farther from Kuroko than ever before. He's working to close the gap, of course. Still, it's not wrong to be a bit affected by the cold.  
  
The hours pass like mere minutes. Kuroko checks his wristwatch. He informs Kise his train arrives around this time, excusing himself with a courteous little bow. Kise's doesn't arrive until an hour after, but he understands. He bids him goodbye, ready to lose Kuroko to circumstance all over again— but Kuroko stands stationary across Kise.

Before Kise could ask him, Kuroko is unwinding the scarf from his neck and carefully pulling it around Kise's instead. Threads rest high on Kise's cheeks, tickling his freezing skin with the warmth it emanates. "It's going to be cold." is the only explanation Kuroko offers.  
  
So Kuroko disappears again. Even when he's gone, Kise can still catch a whiff of his scent laced onto the cloth of the scarf, and he revels in that. He's not sure if he plans on returning it; Kuroko probably wouldn't mind. He had an armada of comfy, unfashionable clothing, anyway.  
  
One thing's for sure: his heart is still capable of beating in fast staccatos— his heartbeats sustain that tempo for the rest of the winter night.

 

 

* * *

 

 

  
v. spring

Pink petals decorate concrete, and hang to dark brown branches in clusters. Spring comes late that year, but the flowers bloom as beautiful as ever. The ice has only begun to melt when the first flower opens, and by then, cool winds have replaced the snowflakes in people's hair.   
  
Kise yawns into his hand, padding down to the school gate. Academics was such a tiring and tedious endeavor. While he's not completely indifferent to his class standing, Kise wasn't the best student by far. If he was, the other students' unremitting efforts to achieve 100 points would be for naught.  
  
As he approaches the gate, he spots a familiar silhouette wandering adrift in the crowds. He briefly deliberates whether or not he should call out to him, but Kuroko already locks eyes with him before he could decide. He takes it as a cue to run toward him. "Ah, Kurokocchi!"  
  
Kuroko greets him, and Kise finds that his day is somewhat better. He has a creeping sense of risk, although, as every step he takes that follows Kuroko is getting heavier and heavier.  
  
"So did you come to visit me?" Kise jokingly, but not-so-jokingly asks.  
  
The fact that Kuroko didn't reply as soon as expected brings about wistfulness in Kise's golden eyes. Kuroko only looks at him, expression unchanging.   
  
Tangled between his hair strands is a cherry blossom petal and there's an instant of flickering clarity. Kise gets a sense that's this has happened before. That said, Kise's body moves of its own volition, his nimble fingers freeing Kuroko's hair of the petal.

It falls, and his hand stays there, on the side of Kuroko's face, despite everything he's told himself before and despite the voice in his head that tells him to stop. He's looking into the sky encased in Kuroko's eyes and hates that he can't read what they're trying to say.

"Yes." Kuroko admits.   
  
Kise's will wavers.  
  
He prided himself in his endurance; his ceaseless patience and his resilience for accepting for these feelings that have yet to subside. But.  
  
 _But._  
  
But it's been a long time. Too long. Kise doesn't know how he got this far. He should even be proud. Except now, all he feels is the inability to breathe. He's purely overwhelmed. He feels conflicted even until when Kuroko drags them both to sit under a weeping cherry blossom tree.  
  
The dull throb in his chest turns into persistent rumbling, as he watches Kuroko gracefully flip through the pages of his book. Kise had previously made sure to only pour his heart out to Kuroko in vestigial amounts, and in this moment, all things he used to be self-assured about and his very being began to unravel. With Kuroko's breathing even, and his knees tucked under his arms, the emotions and come crashing into him in tidal waves.  
  
"I love you."   
  
He finally blurts it out. The words slip his mouth without a lot of resistance anymore— the long wait has loosened him this much. He isn't even aware he's been crying until Kuroko reaches out to gently brush a tear away. Kise looks down at him, eyes pathetically brimming with what might be year's worth of tears.  
  
"I know." comes Kuroko's soft reply.   
  
The warm salty tears still trail down his cheeks— though probably for a happier reason this time —and Kuroko leans up, hopefully to kiss them away. He's never been good with words, so this is how Kuroko communicates his apologies and his confessions. He gently cups either side of Kise's face, and leaves soft feather-like kisses on his forehead, on his eyelids, on his cheeks, on his nose and finally to his lips.  
  
It's soft, chaste, short. It tastes vaguely of vanilla.  
  
The happiness and relief that Kise feels quelling up within him is enough to make him burst. Determined to make sure it's real, he wraps an arm around Kuroko's middle, drawing him close. Kuroko lets him. He's comfortable and warm and pliant in Kise's arms, which only makes Kise shuffle closer, letting his face fall on the junction where Kuroko's shoulder and neck meet.

In turn, Kuroko meekly raises his arm to reciprocate the embrace. He buries his nose into Kise's blonde hair, ultimately glad that he can't see the pink tinge that dusts itself on his cheeks. Kise would _so_ tease him.  
  
Spring means new life, and with this is the promise of Kise and Kuroko's, somehow.   
  
The whistles of the wind are heard in tune with the three words Kuroko finally says aloud, and the rest of the flowers bloom the following day. 

**Author's Note:**

> (((im having withdrawals.)))
> 
> also the first three happen in middle school, last two in high school but you're free to assume when they happen too i guess lol idk i took a lot of liberties with the timeline oops
> 
> thanks for reading!!!


End file.
